The Realm of Realism

by R M Gauthier

  Nevaeh watches the angels carefully, then turns to Fallen.

  “If no one summoned them,” she whispers to him. “How did we all end up here?”

  “That’s the question, isn’t it?” he whispers back.

  “We should get going, General,” Marut directs, his gaze on Fallen.

  “Stop calling me that,” he demands. “Where is it we’re supposed to go?”

  Marut’s head swivels left and right before he steps forward and lowers his voice to a whisper. “I’d rather not say in—” His gaze shifts left and right swiftly before he raises a hand to his mouth, cupping the side. “Mixed company.”

  “We demand to know what is happening,” Dominick calls out, annoyance clear in his attitude.

  “I would watch your tone, Dominick,” Khamel warns.

  “Fine, but really. We get summoned here by whoever. And now you’re telling us to what—go home and forget everything. Is that what you’re saying?” Dominick inquires.

  “That’s exactly what we’re saying,” Khamel responds. “Thank you all for coming, but you are dismissed.”

  Disgruntled comments float up from the bunch as they begin making their way out of the clearing.

  “Wait!” Nevaeh calls out, causing everyone to halt in their tracks and spin around to face her. “There’s a reason we’re all here. I think it would be best to figure that out what’s happening before we all leave.”

  Fallen considers her request, as all gaze’s flash to him awaiting his response. He knows his brother is behind this and he feels a sense of duty to stop Azrael at any cost.

  “Finding Azrael is our top priority,” he replies to Nevaeh.

  “That’s the thing, Gen—. I mean, Sir,” Marut begins. “We already know Azrael’s whereabouts.”

  “Why didn’t you lead with that? Fallen says, astonished.

  “Where is he?” Nevaeh interjects.

  Marut glances around appearing uncomfortable.

  “I’d really rather not say,” Marut comments.

  Fallen stands a little taller, squares his shoulders and glares at Marut.

  “Tell me now, Commander. That’s an order,” he commands.

  “He’s in Paradise, Sir,” Marut says, then bows his head.

  A round of shocked gasps rushes around the group.

  Fallen looks at Nevaeh, a private conversation takes place between the two before they scan the mythical creatures. The crowd is silent as confusion runs rapid, then all hell breaks loose as a ton of questions are thrown at the pair.

  “How can he be in Paradise?” one of the tiny fairies yells out.

  “Paradise is real?” another voice rises above the crowd.

  Fallen pinches the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb. His brain scrambles as a ton of thoughts scramble his mind. The ramifications of Azrael being in Paradise are catastrophic. He must go there right now. He needs to find his brother and put an end to his scheme.

  “Fallen?” Nevaeh whispers, as she steps in front of him. “Fallen?”

  “We have to get to him, Nevaeh,” he whispers back.

  “I know. Let’s go,” she replies.

  She prepares herself to shimmer out but halts herself as the crowd parts and another pack of angel’s march into the clearing.

  Caleb and Mazereth stride forward with purpose. Behind them, an army of angels from both sides, a sea of glowing gold and red. If he wasn’t faced with these rogue angel’s, Fallen would be impressed by the sheer magnitude of the scene.

  “We don’t have time for this, Sir,” Marut warns.

  Fallen glances at Marut and considers his options. Something’s not right; he can feel it in soul.

  “You can’t just leave us here with them,” Dominick says, his glare on Fallen and Nevaeh as he gestures to the army of angel’s.

  The newest angel’s spread out and circle the clearing blocking the way for anyone who tries to leave. Guards, that’s what they are and here to intimated.

  “Holy?” Neveah gasps, as she studies the pack.

  “What is it?” Fallen question, concern written all over his face.

  “They’re trying to rewrite history,” she says, astonished.

  Fallen’s face scrunches up his eyebrows pinch together as he narrows his eyes.

  “What does that mean?” Marut solicits, confused.

  All gazes snap to Fallen.

  “He’s restarting the war,” the words slip from Fallen’s lips as if they’re a rumor.

  The entire region goes silent and still.

  34

  Azrael and Aaron stand side-by-side, completely still and concentrating on the task at hand. It’s quiet, completely silent, not even a stray animal making any type of noise. The wind is gone, but the air is heavy with heat, the sun brightly shines down on them.

  Aaron is sweating profusely, his shirt soaked and forehead dripping making it difficult to concentrate, but he’s trying. He’s not sure what this will do, and he knows he can’t trust Azrael. However, he’s stuck in the middle of a desert without any idea of how to escape.

  Azrael’s impatience is mounting. He realizes the time to finish this task is limited, but once it’s complete they’ll be at the point of no return. At least that’s the goal. He must get Aaron to finish the incantation before they’re discovered. Once inside, they’ll be protected by the barrier, or at least that’s the plan. He breaks from his meditation and turns to Aaron.

  “You have to hurry, Aaron,” Azrael urges.

  “I’m trying, but it’s not working.” Aaron frowns in frustration.

  “I know,” Azrael offers in what he hopes is a calming manner.

  He rubs a hand up and down Aaron’s back attempting to sooth him.

  “Aaron, it’s inside of you.” He raises his pointer finger and presses it to Aaron’s sweaty forehead. “It’s all there. If you let yourself believe it, you can do it. Trust me.”

  Aaron nods his head, then closes his eyes.

  Excitement riddles Azrael as he watches Aaron concentrate. He’s almost there, Azrael can feel it. It won’t be long, and Azrael will be going home. His world will be right again. There’s nothing that can stop him once this is done. If he can only stay calm long enough to help Aaron. Azrael’s never been known for his patience, he’s always been known as a hot head, but right now, he’s going to push all those feelings away. He’s going to use all his power to help Aaron. It’s his last chance. The stars will never be in this position again. This is it and it must happen right here, right now.

  Azrael glances at Aaron.

  Aaron throws his hands out in front of himself. His face the epitome of concentration. His body begins to vibrate slightly and the ground under their feet begins to shake.

  A smile spreads across Azrael’s face.

  “That’s it, Aaron. Keep it up, you’re doing great,” Azrael praises.

  Aaron’s eyelids spring open, he gasps as he stares forward but there’s nothing to see. The wind kicks up again, the ground shifts under his feet, and he begins speaking.

  “When the skies fall and the earth crumbles, the universe shall be lost,” Aaron exclaims. “We are all doomed.”

  Azrael stares at him in awe as he watches Aaron chant.

  “When the skies fall and the earth crumbles, the universe shall be lost,” Aaron exclaims. “We are all doomed.”

  Azrael steps back as the earth shakes violently, the wind whips around practically scooping Aaron off his feet and the bright sky suddenly turns dark.

  “It’s working,” Azrael exclaims as he watches the scene taking place in front of him.

  “When the skies fall and the earth crumbles, the universe shall be lost,” Aaron exclaims. “We are all doomed,” Aaron mumbles once again.

  Suddenly, it’s as if the sky is lowering and the earth is rising until the two become one. At the very point where they join a burst of light explodes outwards creating a huge boom, sending both Aaron and Azrael flat on their butts. Another loud bang causes th
em to cover their ears and they squeeze their eyes shut tight against the brightness.

  As quickly as it started it comes to a halt. The wind stops, the rumbling settles and the noise drifts away. There isn’t a sound to be heard and the silence is deafening.

  Aaron keeps his eyes squeezed tight, fearing what he’ll see if he opens them. His hands are still pressing tight to his ears and he’s still on his butt on the ground. He sits for a moment longer scared to move.

  Finally, he drops his hands from his ears, and peeks through squinted eyes. He spots Azrael standing in front of him, blocking most of the bright light, allowing Aaron to see him, but not much else.

  After a moment he hears Azrael speak.

  “Michael,” Azrael says, with relief, but also a bit of awe in his tenor.

  35

  Fallen takes a step forward, then spins in a slow circle examining everyone in the clearing carefully. His entire face exudes concentration. He’s trying to work out the puzzle laid at his feet. He’s known his brother was up to no good, but he never imagined it was something this enormous.

  If it’s true and he’s found a way to open Paradise, everything he’s known will be wiped out in a split second. This must be some sort of a mistake. Surely, his brother knows the consequences of such actions, he’d never be that stupid.

  Would he?

  It’s that last statement that worries Fallen the most. And it’s the last statement that kicks him into high gear. It’s what snaps him into the high powered General he’s been suppressing for centuries.

  “Marut.” His gaze turns to the dark angel. “You’re with me.”

  “Wait a minute,” Nevaeh interrupts. “What’s your plan?”

  Fallen’s gaze shifts to her. “I’m planning to capture him.”

  “How?” she questions.

  “The same way we did the first time,” he replies.

  “Fallen.” Her face falls and a sadness settles over her features. “We can’t keep doing the same thing hoping for a different result.”

  “What are you talking about?” Fallen probes, annoyance evident in his tone.

  “I’m saying, we should slow down and think about this before we do something irreversible. Isn’t that why we’re in this situation to begin with?” she explains.

  “What do you suggest?” he inquires.

  “I don’t know,” she replies.

  “Exactly.” He throws his hands up, exasperated. “We have to act now, not later. If what he’s doing works—”

  “It won’t,” she argues.

  “You don’t know that,” he counters.

  “We don’t know anything,” she retorts.

  “We can’t wait. We have to go now,” he practically yells.

  “No one is going anywhere.” Caleb steps forward.

  “We’ll deal with you later,” Nevaeh threatens, her glower on Caleb.

  “You’re not in charge here, Nevaeh. I am,” he responds with an angry tone.

  He glances at Mazereth and nods.

  Mazereth steps forward and motions to another dark angel to join him.

  The other dark angel appears from behind the front-line group of angels. It’s difficult to imagine he was able to hide behind them because he’s larger than them. He stands a foot taller than Fallen’s 6’8 frame. He’s dressed in black and chrome armor, carrying a large silver staff. His head is covered by a metal helmet but as he steps forward, he reaches up and pulls it off, revealing his identity.

  Gasps spread throughout the crowd.

  Fallen and Neveah stare in astonishment.

  “No one is permitted to leave,” Uriel states.

  “What’s going on, Uriel?” Fallen inquires.

  No one moves. No one speaks. They all just stare at Uriel, everyone except Nevaeh.

  “Uriel? How could you?” she urges.

  Uriel ignores Nevaeh, instead faces off with Fallen.

  “You knew this was coming, Fallen. So, did he,” he reveals, then turns his attention to Nevaeh. “And, she.”

  “This is not the way to fix things, Uriel,” Nevaeh pleads with him.

  “No, but it’s a good start,” he responds.

  “Not if I have anything to say about it,” Fallen interjects as he steps closer to Uriel eyeballing him. “After all, it’s my kin who’s behind all of this.”

  “Not any longer, Fallen. Azrael is just a pawn in our plan,” Uriel explains.

  “I hate to interrupt, but what does any of this have to do with us?” Sherman probes.

  Uriel turns his glare to the oversized Leprechaun.

  “Nothing,” Uriel responds with a smirk. “You’re free to leave any time.”

  Sherman stares at the angel/demon considering his answer.

  “Adios,” one of the tiny fairies’ shouts.

  He’s been hovering near Sherman, but after receiving this answer he flaps his tiny wings and flies upward picking up speed on the way. Once above the tree line his body bounces against an invisible barrier, which sends him spiraling back to the ground.

  The crowd watches in horror as the tiny, winged creature freefalls at an alarming speed.

  Sherman is quick to move throwing his hands out in front of himself and plucking the tiny fairy from the sky before he plunges into the ground.

  “What have you done?” Nevaeh gasps, as she steps closer to Sherman and examines the fairy. “Xantho?”

  The tiny fairy, yellow in color with the most delicate wings lays within Sherman’s hands not moving.

  “Xantho?” Nevaeh calls out again. “Please wake up.”

  “He’s breathing,” Sherman acknowledges.

  Relief washes over Nevaeh’s features, then she turns to Uriel.

  “What have you done?” she hisses.

  “Woops,” Uriel replies. “My mistake.”

  Fallen moves quicker than any eye can see, swiftly coming up behind Uriel, wrapping an arm around his throat, pulling his head back by his hair and squeezing the angel’s neck.

  The other angels take a step toward him.

  “Stay back,” Fallen roars. “Or, I’ll remove his head.”

  The army of angle’s freezes and every set of eyes is locked on Fallen.

  “What are you doing, Fallen?” Caleb solicits.

  “Stopping you,” he responds, as his arm tightens around Uriel’s throat, causing the angel to gasp for breath. “Before you go too far.”

  “You’re too late,” Caleb offers. “It’s been done.”

  “Nevaeh.” Fallen glances at her. “Shimmer out of here,” he demands.

  Nevaeh glances at him then attempts to shimmer, but when nothing happens, she tries again with the same results.

  “I can’t,” she whispers, her gaze boring into Fallen.

  He closes his eyes for a moment and curses to himself. His lids snap open and his glare falls onto Caleb.

  “Take the barrier down,” he commands.

  “I can’t,” Caleb responds.

  Fallen’s attention returns to Nevaeh. “Contact Headquarters,” he requests.

  “Headquarters,” she calls out, but gets no response.

  She shakes her head at Fallen, then turns her focus on Caleb.

  “Do you know what you’ve done?” she probes.

  “I do,” he responds confidently.

  “Then why, Caleb?” Nevaeh pleads. “Why would you go along with them?”

  “Don’t you miss it, Nevaeh? Don’t you miss everyone? Because I do. I want our lives back. I want us to return to normal. Can’t you understand that?” he implores.

  “Of course, I miss everyone, but this isn’t the way. This plan won’t work. Can’t you see that?”

  “It’ll work. Why can’t you see that?” he appeals to her.

  “Because there’s no going back, Caleb. What happened, happened. You can’t change that,” she explains.

  “But we can,” Caleb counters. “You’ll see.”

  Nevaeh glances at Fallen pleading for help.

  �
�The only thing you’re going to do is start another war,” Fallen interjects, as he releases Uriel and steps back.

  “Then, bring it on,” Caleb threatens.

  “I won’t have to,” Fallen shouts, then moves to Nevaeh’s side. “You guys already did.”

  He glances at the tiny fairy in Sherman’s hand.

  “He going to be okay?” he inquires, as he glances at Sherman.

  “Yeah, he’ll be fine.”

  Fallen nods, then glances around at everyone trying to contemplate some sort of plan. Surely, with the power in this space, he can channel them all and break through the invisible barrier. It’ll have to be on the down low though and that’ll be trickier to pull off.

  He turns his attention to Nevaeh.

  36

  Aaron climbs to his feet and peeks over Azrael’s shoulder spotting another angel. He’s glorious and Aaron now understands the awe in Azrael’s voice. This angel is wearing all white and chrome from head to toe his entire outfit trimmed in gold. He stands at least a foot taller than Aaron making him close to seven feet tall.

  “What are you doing here, Azrael?” Michael inquires.

  “It’s time, Michael,” Azrael responds.

  “We’ve been over this before,” Michael replies. “What were you told about patience?”

  “It’s been long enough,” Azrael declares. “My patience has worn off.”

  “You don’t get to decide that,” Michael reaffirms. “That’s not how this works.”

  “I’m tired of waiting for them to get their crap together. I’m not going to be a pawn in their game any longer. I’m taking control of my existence. I mean, we still have freewill, right?” Azrael demands.

  “Freewill.” Michael smirks. “You’re not going to pull that card, are you?”

  “You’re either with us, or against us, Michael. You decide,” Azrael offers.

  Michael reaches a hand over his shoulder, pulls a long sword off his back and swings it down to the ground. The ground around the sword shakes and begins cracking, causing Azrael and Aaron to take a step back. A fiery flame starts at the tip of the sword and travels up the blade, along the handle. Michael’s hand remains wrapped around the handle even through the fiery flame.